How are you? I am well. So blessed. Lots of stuff going on though. I didn’t get that promotion. My work is going well and I talked to someone about being put on a special project in Q3/Q4, still, it was a disappointment. Lots of introspection there. And two dear friends have been going through a terrible time. Heavy burden, even though it’s not my burden, because I love them.

And my life is changing. Eldest is well and thoroughly moved out of the house now. He was over for dinner the other night, and, in the course of the evening, thanked me for “kicking him out”. (This was no surprise ejection; our kids all know that they can live here till they turn 23 and then they need to go build their own lives; they’ve known this forever and they prepare accordingly.)He said it felt great to know that his parents trusted him to be out on his own. He told me it made him feel more capable and grown up knowing that his mom believed in his ability to take care of himself. My youngest is now 6’3″ and reads the Wall Street Journal across the table from me at breakfast. My enterprising daughter has three jobs (in an effort to graduate from college debt free) and she asks more complicated questions now. One evening, days ago, we had a huge bedtime discussion, she, my husband and I, about love and marriage and choosing your right person. My husband turned to me after she went back to her room and said, “I miss teaching them to tie their shoes.”

You may still be in the thick of it. Diapers or toddlers or grade schoolers. Enjoy this time. You are laying down the foundation for relationships that will last the rest of your life. Don’t let anyone tell you it can’t be done. Don’t let anyone make you believe they will inevitably get snarky and distant. Not true. Stay close. Stay strong in your boundaries and values. Tell them you love them. Be brave enough to be the fool on the playground, be brave enough to ban social media for your little ones.

We took the kids on a houseboat trip the other weekend. No cell phones, surprise trip. It was awesome. One night, we sat together in the gathering dark and they talked about childhood memories. Forts and fairy houses and walks around the lake. Pancake breakfasts and cupcake decorating. Daughter remembered that I cried at her third grade band concert when she surprised me with a solo. They talked about how they had smart phones and social media last of all their friends (second semester, senior year). They laughed about how someone once thought we were Amish because of our lack of electronic devices. Youngest did say that he “hated that job where you were gone all the time” (3-5 days a week, horrible job), but there was no complaining about my work beyond that.

I went for a walk with my taller-than-me-now baby last night. After bedtime, but I didn’t care. I had been gone for two days and had listened to the news about Jennifer Riordan all the way home. I needed to reconnect and it didn’t matter how late it was. When he asked to go for a walk, I jumped at the chance.

This is my only kiddo who does this. The let’s-go-outside-and-move-together thing. He talks more when he’s moving and, as he’s my least talkative, that’s a good thing.

My Girlio likes to snuggle on the sofa and watch Downton Abbey reruns, or read a book together. When she needs to “talk” she’ll write me a note in the journal we share and leave it on my pillow. And then I write back. Did I tell you about the time when, at something like nine years old, she scrawled, “I am mad at you” on half a sheet of paper and taped it to my door? (Ah-ha moment: this one expresses herself in writing.) We started our journal shortly after that.

Eldest likes to call and discuss one topic at a time. Very businesslike, except that it’s often his heart that we are talking about, so don’t be fooled by the just-the-facts-ma’am attitude. And he loves to be fed. Make food for this one and he knows he is loved. I brought him a from-scratch cheesecake at college once. Met him at the door of his dorm, gave him a hug and a smile, handed over the cheesecake and drove away. Crazy, yes, but he loved it.

How do you connect with your kiddos? Have you figured out their “languages” yet?

They each need mothering in a different way. It’d be easier if they were all the same, but it’s richer this way. More work, yes, but also more special for each of them, and isn’t that what this is all about?

Enjoy your upcoming weekend, Mommy. This is the good stuff. This is, in my opinion, the best that life has to offer. Dive in. Be there! Bless Ms. Riordan and her family for the painful reminder that time is fleeting, and reconnect with your precious, precious family.

Our little phone-off experiment was, in my mind, a wonderful success. I had forgotten what it was like to just BE THERE with no interruptions. I raised my kids their whole childhoods with no-TV-ever and no-screen-time-except-on-weekends rules. The ever-present screen of the Smart Phone just snuck past me as a distraction.

We talked. We made dinner. Wait, back to that first one: we TALKED. And laughed. And I loved it. Wish I had thought of this sooner. Teen One talked to me about possible career options. Teen Two talked about being nervous to move away.

And you know what else? It was peaceful. Peaceful like I had forgotten home could be.

When I went back to the phone at 9:00 I had two fun texts from friends that I answered and two computer generated voicemails from scammers.

I like this plan.

Another thing I did differently yesterday was to use video-phone when checking in with my kiddo at college. It is a far better form of communication. The face tells you so much. Our company is going to all video communication, I suspect for the same reason.

On business trips, of course, I’ll keep the phone on, but from now on, at home, 6-9 is no-phone-zone. I might even make it from 5-9, we’ll see.

Stay connected to those kiddos. And carve out some peace for yourself in the midst of the storm. Your home. Your family. Your refuge.

Thanks to a reader for passing this along. A summary of a number of studies. This article will definitely change my behavior. Among the findings here I found stunning:

1) Sarah Coyne, a psychologist at Brigham Young University, found that new mothers often compared themselves with other mothers on social media, and that this behavior was in turn associated with “higher levels of maternal depression.”

2) Parental digital distraction most worries Steiner-Adair when it comes to infants. She warns that looking at your phone while feeding an infant, for example, deprives the child and its developing mind of crucial moments of connection and warmth. “You cannot hold the baby and feed them, and gaze in their eyes, and fill them with that interpersonal nourishment when you are texting with somebody else,” she says. And it’s not just the infant’s brain that requires these moments of connection. “Over time, if we let them, our babies calm us down.

3) Still other research has turned up evidence that parents with young kids don’t speak to them as much when watching a screen. And, according to another study by Jenny Radesky, “parent mobile media has been associated with fewer mother-child interactions.”

4) The resulting study was groundbreaking; it was the first to explore how parents were using personal devices around children. And its headline discovery was disturbing: The more caregivers were absorbed by their smartphones, the more harshly they treated the children they were with.

I am so guilty of letting my phone distract me during home-time. No more. Maybe I’ll put it away during dinner prep and our meal. Maybe I’ll put it away from 6:00 – 9:00, not sure. But it’s going away. I saw myself in this article more than I was comfortable with.

Last week, I sat across from a mom, on vacation with her three and four year old, who went through a three and a half hour cross-country flight talking to her children precisely once: “Mommy, I have to go potty.” “Okay, honey.” Otherwise, she watched her movies (one , ironically, about a devoted father who goes to the ends of the earth to protect his children) and kiddos played with their iPads. I saw the children try to get her attention six times. SIX TIMES. Mommy? Mommy, look at this! And she kept watching her movie. It was all I could do not to lean across the aisle and say, “What is it kiddo? Show me.”

I raised my kids without TV and without iPads. They got one hour of screen time or one movie on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Otherwise, we read or we talked. We played. Endless Candyland, books, forts, walks outside. It is possible. It is crucial. They don’t care if you’re tired. You’re still so very important to them. And they need to know they’re important to you.

This MIT study confirms what an earlier UCLA study found. If we want our children to develop to their potential (nevermind having a healthy relationship with them), we need to talk with them.

Good morning!! How are you, Mamma? Ready for the weekend? So I promised you a story about the time my kids were afraid to tell me the oven was on fire. Here you go:

When the kids were little, I had a paper stoplight on the door of my office. I could move the little circle to red or green. Green light on the door, you can come in and ask Mommy anything. When the light is red, Mommy cannot be interrupted.

When they were babies, we had a nanny. When they were toddlers, my husband stayed home. But as grade-schoolers, we just let them roam the house on my work-from-home days. Thus the light on the door, to give me uninterrupted work time and phone calls without kid-noise in the background.

One day, I had an important conference call. I move the light to red and dial in. About twenty minutes into the call, the kids knock on my door. I have glass, French, double-doors so as I turned, I could see their anxious little faces as they mouthed, “we need to talk to you!” I frowned and waved them away; the light was red, you know you’re not supposed to be bothering me now. Another minute goes by. Another knock. I turn again to see the kids gesturing with increasing vigor. I point to the sign and turn back to my desk. Three more minutes. They knock again. Frustrated, I mute the call and open the door.

“WHAT?”

“Mommy, sorry, but the oven is on fire!”

Oh my God. I drop the muted phone and run for the kitchen, where flames are now shooting out of the oven doors.

(Baking soda. Lots of baking soda. May I take this public-service moment to recommend that you have the giant laundry-sized box of baking soda on hand, just in case?)

You wonder when you’ve been a little too strict? Looking for a sign that your kids don’t think they’re as important as your work? That was mine.

I had to reassess what I had thought was my brilliant balance. Yes, the sign was a great idea, but I apparently didn’t communicate to the kids that their safety and well-being was more important than my work, even when the light was red.

We did have a conversation later about how Mommy’s sign doesn’t hold for fire, blood or home-invaders. You can come in if the house is burning and don’t bother knocking.

I also did an unvarnished personal inventory which resulted in an increased effort to reach out more as Mommy, even on the days I was at home doing important work. Instead of the green light, I mostly just kept my office door open after that day. I started to play more with them after hours. I started to tell them I loved them, forever, no matter what. That’s a story in and of itself. Maybe I’ll do that one this weekend.

Good morning, Mamma. You know I hardly ever post on Sundays. But I have an idea for you. Something I hope you try tonight.

See, my family has done a Sunday night family meeting for forever; around fourteen years now. Ever since our youngest was just a toddler. This is a cornerstone of our family.

We take turns being the leader (we let the kids start taking turns as leader once they turned 3 years old); the leader gets to pick Sunday night dinner, dessert and leads the meeting.

The coolest part of this years-long tradition is that it has allowed me to get to know my children. And it’s given me a tool to let them know me too. I know who is struggling with school. I know what subject they feel they are doing best in. I found out when the neighbor kids were being mean. I know who loves to be outdoors. I found out what their favorite dinner was and how they felt about my being gone for work. They heard about my week. How I missed them, what crazy stuff I did to get home in time for the soccer game.

It also taught them listening and leadership. And they know each other. Huge.

We open with a short, simple prayer, we close with a prayer, and in between we talk about our week. The best stuff, the toughest stuff, stuff we’re proud of or were hurt by. If there are any outstanding issues, we address them here. (Okay, so we need to talk about where we are going for Thanksgiving this year…)

When they were little it was simple: I liked playing on the playground this week. I liked that mom made pudding. Yesterday, with my now grown children, we talked about a recent suicide on campus. Huge conversation. So valuable.

Over the years, we’ve talked about everything it seems. Why are some kids mean? Why are some grown-ups mean? What does it mean to be a good person, a good member of this family, a good student? We’ve talked about failure. Failure is an inevitable and important part of life. Gracious in victory and gracious in defeat, I tell my kids. You’re going to fail, that’s not the important part, the important part is what you do after you fail. What did you learn? How will you do things differently moving forward? You know we still love you, right?

My husband typically adds the humor, as needed. Our youngest is fast picking up that torch. It’s a good skill.

NO phones. Phones have to be in another room and on silent. No TV. Just family sitting in a circle, listening to each other.

Try it tonight. A family meeting. Get your husband’s buy-in because you guys are a team, and then, sure, just spring it on the kiddos. Tell them this afternoon. We’re going to do this thing after dinner tonight. Pick an object (we use a wooden spoon) to be your Talking Thing. Whoever is in possession of (in our house) The Talking Spoon is the one holding the floor. Our job is to listen to and respond to that person. We pass the Talking Spoon back to the leader as our sign that we are done with our turn.

It probably won’t be perfect the first go-round, but try. You’ll be AMAZED at what you find out about your kids. And they’ll be amazed to find you listening to them.

Good morning, darling. How has your week been so far? I had a chance to talk with a lovely young woman over the last couple days and one of the things we talked about was what we women, as individuals, think we deserve. Wow. Such an interesting conversation.

Do you think you deserve good things? Are you strong in standing up for your own wishes and desires? Do you think you deserve to be treated with respect? After your little self-evaluation above, WHY do you think those things?

Do you ever call yourself pathetic? Why?

Do you ever call yourself a dummie? Why?

Do you make excuses for other people who are treating you badly? Stop it. Just stop it right now.

Yes, we are all different. Yes, there are different ways to live in and see the world. Yes, you have a right to your opinion, but if someone’s opinion is ripping into something I treasure and love, then I need to put a barrier up to protect myself from that person.

I am not perfect. There are wonderful, loving folks who have spoken the truth in love into my life, and they have helped me to be a better person. Constructive, loving conversation, sincerely concerned friends and family with gentle words is not what I am talking about here.

It’s the words-as-weapons I want you to protect yourself from. Someone who contemptuously or angrily cuts you down. That’s not loving or helpful, and you have my permission to step away from that.

And, wait, yes, husbands and wives do get angry, and every once-in-a-blue-moon we say something (or shout something) in anger we wish we could take back. And then we (BOTH!) apologize, we ask and give forgiveness, and we find a better way.

But, sister, if he is doing that sh*t weekly? Or, heaven forbid, daily? If he throws things, threatens harm to you, calls you names? You need to get away.

And how about the women in our lives who look at us with that snide face, you know the one, and say, “You do THAT??? Oh…” And a part of you withers, right there. Stay away from those girls, my love. Leave them to their poison.

If you want to stay home, stay home. If you want to work, work. If you want to camp for the weekend, camp. If you want to make your children homemade muffins for breakfast, do it. By God, you don’t have to make excuses for your life to anyone.

You are a beautiful, imperfect, amazing child of God. The mysterious Creator put you down here for a reason and that reason was not to be torn down, punished or disrespected.

Good morning, darling. How was your weekend? Wonderful, I hope. Mostly wonderful, that works too.

I am making my bed again. It’s been about twenty years since I made my bed on anything like a routine (or monthly, even) basis.

That’s how long it took between my first-born arriving on the scene and my youngest getting to the point where he is dressing himself, doing his schoolwork with no reminding, doing laundry and helping me to make meals and clean. That level of help will change a life for sure. All of a sudden, I have time to make my bed.

For years though, I didn’t. And I didn’t feel bad about it. I needed that five minutes in the morning. I needed every minute I could get. I would literally jog from my car to the building in parking lots to save the additional time getting into a store or a customer’s office.

I figured if I saved 25 minutes total throughout the day, that’s time I got to read to my kids before bed. And I LOVED that. It filled my soul. I needed that time with my kiddos.

Twenty-five minutes. That’s the difference between making dinner (even if dinner is sliced apples, crackers and peanut butter) and having to order take-out pizza because I’m out of time and energy.

For me, it was about priorities, and making my bed didn’t make the list.

You are the one who knows what your life needs. Do you like the way your day unfolds? Your week? Are you getting enough time with the kids? When was the last time you kissed your husband? Is the vessel of your soul, of your mommy energy full or empty?

If you aren’t happy, if you are yelling at the kids at the end of the day and hating yourself for it, if you feel thisclose to bursting into tears, look at what you can change.

Time. Priorities. Rotisserie chicken, goldfish crackers and grapes, that’s a perfectly fine dinner. There is no law that says you have to make your kid’s birthday cake (unless you want to). Neither does it list as one of the ten commandments “Thou shalt clean thy own house”. Make sure that you are living by your rules, priorities and expectations, and not someone else’s. Don’t give a damn what “they” think. Please.

Make room somewhere, sister. Make room in your life for what you love.

Good morning, Mamma. Happy Thursday! Stay connected to your kids day. Your day to look at the week so far and assess your family ties. Your day to decide what’s good and what needs to change and to plan the weekend.

I recently had an opportunity to ask my daughter what she remembered. Of all the hours and days and years I spent parenting that child, what were her favorite memories?

She was glad to be close to her siblings. I staunchly refused to referee in their little disputes when they were growing up. “He hit me!” “You two are going to be together for the rest of your lives. It is up to you whether that relationship is going to be a good one or a bad one. Now go downstairs and work out a compromise and then come up here and tell Daddy and I what you worked out.” When they were little, and arguing over a toy, we never bothered to find out who had “started it”. We immediately took the toy away and put it in the top of a closet. They got all their toys back on Sunday. Some weeks, that closet got crowded.

She loved the times we spent outdoors. Camping, kayaking, simply hiking through a local park. This is so easy to put together, and some of her very favorite memories came from these times together outdoors. She loved climbing trees and canoeing and hiking to have outdoor lunch on the top of 3,000 ft high mountain. A baby mountain, yes, but a challenge for a kid, and one of her favorite memories.

She loved our girly shopping days. It didn’t matter if our shop was at TJ Maxx, Nordstrom or a consignment store, what she loved was being together, just the two of us, and putting outfits together that let her feel classy, fashionable, womanly. We talked a lot as she was growing up about “what your style says about you and how it will impact people’s expectations of you”. She was grateful for those lessons.

She loved when Daddy would get up on a Saturday and make from scratch waffles with strawberry compote. She loved it when I decorated her locker the morning I had to leave for a business trip on her birthday (showed up at her school at 6:45 to do it, flight left at 8:10, that was a close one). She loved it when we would make buttered popcorn, sprinkle it with frozen Junior Mints and snuggle up in front of a movie. She loved it when we skipped the Super Bowl party and went skiing at a local resort. We had the hills all to ourselves and the night was gorgeous.

Make some memories this weekend, Mamma. Give them something to take to college with them someday. You’re both going to need it.